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Percy himself suddenly felt…adrift, and his thoughts turned to home and that Frederica was there. Collecting his hat, gloves, walking stick and jacket, he departed White’s shortly after. His carriage took him close to Grosvenor Square before he rapped on the roof and jumped from the equipage.
Sebastian was indeed right. Freddie was under his skin.
He would walk the rest of the journey home, intending for the brisk night air to cool his heated thoughts. Percy had to bloody brace against the desires he might feel upon entering his house. He kept reminding himself that he must not kiss Freddie…or think about her in any carnal manner. Unfortunately, Percy seemed to be able to think of very little else. For a man applauded for his self-control when arguing his motions or fighting a duel, he could not tell his heart or mind to stop thinking about her.
Clearly, all other duties of his must be postponed until Freddie had been transformed and married and out of his bloody house.
A familiar figure hurrying down the street in the distance arrested his attention. Frederica? Surely it could not be her. It was by pure happenstance that Percy had decided to return home early this evening. It was indeed an uncommon break in his routine after attending his gentleman’s club every Tuesday evening for the last five years or more. Anyone could depend on him to be at White’s, and many of his appointments were held there over a strong cup of coffee or one of their in-house chef divine dinners. Clearly, even his ward trusted in his routine, for that could be the only explanation she would be hurrying down Grosvenor Street, glancing about at intervals.
Percy fished the pocket watch his father had given him as a lad from his top pocket and glanced at the time. It was nine in the evening. She was not dressed for a ball, and he clearly recalled her telling him she planned to read a most riveting book for the evening and would be in her room where she hoped to remain undisturbed. Truly, almost every Tuesday evening, she found a reason to remain at the townhouse. The shock of that awareness almost felled him to the ground.
A slight breeze tossed an abandoned piece of newssheet, and she patted the overly large hat atop her head to ensure it was secured. Perhaps if he had not been so damn aware of her, he would not have known this person to be Freddie. His ward was an exceedingly unpredictable female, and Percy didn’t think he would have her be any other way. But this was beyond the pale and all bounds of propriety. She was clearly sneaking away from home for a clandestine meeting.
He started to follow her, of course. Glancing behind him, he indicated to his coachman to trail them at a discreet pace. Almost thirty minutes later, he found himself standing in the shadows of a gas lamp, staring up at a particular townhouse…48 Berkeley Square. Freddie had knocked on the door only once, and it had been held open for her entry. She had smiled upon crossing the threshold, but he did not see to whom she had given that favor.
Who in God’s name lived at this townhouse, and why did she have to arrive in such a clandestine fashion. Percy waited for several minutes, noting that no one else had entered the house. Perhaps it was best he returned home and awaited an explanation from her. This was clearly a place she visited often, so there should be no danger. He made to leave and hesitated.
Would she also walk home? Was the lady even privy to the dangers that lingered on the streets? What if she was inside with a damn libertine who was taking advantage of her innocence and trust. The rage that touched him at the idea unnerved him with its intensity. Though some gave him the notorious reputation of a rake, Percy had never dallied with an innocent or a married woman. He enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh and women who reveled in their sweet sensuality, but he had never taken advantage or given false promises.
Do not be a fool, he reminded himself. Freddie was a lady of resolute character. And it was that recollection of her character that made him reassess the entire situation. She was resolute, stubborn, and could also be willful. Her voice rose in his thoughts then to haunt him. “You may, of course, refuse to be my teacher…I am terribly fortunate I have several trusted sources.”
Bloody hell. What if whoever lived behind that door was her new source? Her tutor for seduction lessons and kisses.
Who would so foolishly risk their life knowing she was under his protection?
Percy did not like dealing with the unknown. Moving with discreet stealth, he vaulted over the small side gate leading around to the servants’ entrance. The doors were closed, and he went around to the large gardens of the house. Light shone from a few windows, and he could see the hints of silhouettes. There was more than one lady in the house.
Unexpectedly, a window opened, and Frederica leaned forward. She said something that he missed, but her laughter floated in the air.
“Help me unbutton my dress,” she said to someone.
There was a reply that he could not discern.
Percy flexed his hands and formed them into fists. Luckily he always walked with a dagger in his boot. He had enough on him to gut the gentleman in that chamber with her. Using the ladder the servants climbed the house to clean the trenches and the copious amount of climbing trellis, Percy scaled the townhouse with deft skills and went over to the balcony. Luckily in his wilder days, he had climbed into many bedchambers for those lovers who appreciated surprise adventures. He was intimately acquainted with how to jump over a balcony and open a window from the outside.
This one remained open, and through the white curtains, he saw another lady who assisted his ward in removing her clothes. Clothed in only a chemise and knee-length undergarments, he could see that she had a slim waist that flared into agilely rounded hips.
What in God’s name was this place?
“I will wear the red wig tonight,” Freddie said. “I am also of a mind to remain in my chemise when I go downstairs.”
The ladies laughed, and his gut grew colder. The second lady exited the chamber, and Freddie padded over to a bed and jumped onto its plushness. Percy did not hesitate but slung a leg over the sill. “What the hell is this place, and why are you here…undressed?”
* * *
Frederica swallowedher startled cry and lurched from the bed. Oh, dear. She rushed over to the window, grabbed onto Percy’s jacket, and tugged him fully inside.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, unable to credit he was at 48 Berkeley Square and inside. This was a disaster. “You cannot be found here, my lord. Please hurry and leave. Marge will return soon.”
She tried to push him through the windows and noted that he did not budge. The man was like a stone wall, and her pitiful strength could not move him. Frederica glanced up and froze, a tingle of warning touching her spine in an icy caress.
“Why are you sweaty and disheveled?” he murmured dangerously.
“What?”
“Do not let me repeat the question.”
She had never seen him in such a lethal mood before, and she warily stepped away. He went around her, walking toward the door in a decidedly predatory manner. He was on the hunt, and she suspected it was for whatever gentleman he thought she might have been naughty with.
